Best Crime Poems
There is a boy, who I spill all my secrets to.
Someone that I look forward to seeing everyday.
A person who I think about all night.
Who dances through my dreams.
Who's smile is as warm as the sun.
Who's hand I want to hold all the time.
Who's kisses I crave.
Who's feelings makes my knees weak.
Who's voice is music whispering in my ear.
Who makes me smile without trying.
Who makes me blush with just one thought.
Who I want to love.
Who sweeps me off my feet.
Who helps me find peace.
Who makes my heart beat, faster, and faster, each second i see him.
There is a boy, who is sweet as suga.
Who is so funny.
He is cute.
Gorgeous to me.
A boy who I want to stay with.
A boy who I never thought could like me back, until the day I found out he did.
This boy, who is a robber, because he is stealing my breaths.
Who is a lock picker, because he is breaking through the chains on my heart.
Who is a king, because he makes me feel like a queen.
Who is the wind, because he sweeps me off my feet.
Who is the stars, because he makes them shine in my eyes.
Who is the moon, because I pray to keep him at night.
Who is an angel, because I swear he's a gift from God.
Who drives me crazy, because he's always on my mind.
A boy, who is in my music, the lyrics to my songs.
A boy who is my poems, because he's in the words a lot.
A boy who I am quickly falling for.
A boy who wont let me hit the floor.
This boy, I know I'm going to love.
This boy, I might already love.
This boy, who makes me less scared.
Who holds my biggest secrets.
Who has also been hurt.
Who always looks at me the same way, full of happiness and love.
Who doesn't care what Ive done, as long as I'm his now.
Who would protect me from even my nightmares
This boy, who gives me butterflys.
This boy. This boy.
He is the only one I want.
He is perfect to me.
He is different then everyone else.
He is unique, and amazing.
I love this boy.
He has my heart.
Baby we'll commit the perfect crime,
I'll steal your heart, since you've stolen mine.
Would you steal an oil painting from someone’s wall?
Would you steal cultivated flowers from someone’s garden?
Would you steal an author’s great novel?
Would you steal quilts made by someone’s grandmother?
Would you steal pottery from a gallery?
Would you steal artwork displayed by artists?
Why would you steal someone else’s creativity to claim as your own?
Plagiarism is stealing someone else’s heart felt emotions put into words, someone else’s creativity.
Stealing is stealing, it’s not yours and it’s a crime!
Lawyer,
slippery snake,
white collar criminal,
mirror image of thievery,
serpent.
For John Heck's 12-In-1...Choose Your Forte! contest.
We gained an hour, that's fact.
Try to keep your emotions intact!
I'm not sure how folks feel
but it's not a big deal
So please don't overreact!
That extra hour is not a big thing.
No matter what excitement it might bring.
Please don't be surprised,
cause you must realise
that you'll lose it again in the Spring!
Yeah, an hour ain't really much time,
to write a good Limerick or Rhyme.
The result, as you see,
is a shame, shame on me
cause this Limerick is really a crime!
Sins of the Fools
Whichever God their dice shall chose
judgment rendered all the same
guilty of crimes against humanity
its a sin and not a game
No one is chosen
all life is precious
against warlords, uneducated and the cruel
man developed the vaccine
saved the child, the family, even the fool
from fairy tails and zealot jesters
There are those telling lies
spreading hate and falsehoods
for this, many had to weep and cry
countless relatives had to die
Regimes and third world places
one would think fall prey
to the snake oil salesman of the day
sadly its the good ol' USA
full of morons following foxy Carl's play
Even the wily coyote
would know carrots are not black
Fox news though plays for the sap
get vaxxed, and stop eating sugar
if conspiracy is your diet
I ask you to reconsider.
Daggled and bloodied, the young man lay upon the ground where he’d been
left.. .left by vile men who, spurred by senseless hate and ravenous for a taste of
violence, had lured him with false fellowship and brought him to this secluded spot
by veil of darkened day. At first, they bound his arms, rendering him defenseless to
what was to ensue. After dragging him a small way from the back seat of their van,
they proceeded to pummel his stomach and his face, breaking his nose almost
instantly. When he stumbled to the ground, he received the heels of their boots as
they kicked at his extremities and then again, he received their cruel blows to his
stomach and face. When certain they had done enough damage so he would not
last a night in the cold, they spat on him and drove away.
As his attackers sat far away in a bar, drunk and boasting how they’d “done the
world a favor,” he’d already passed the stage of vomiting and gasping for his
breath. And though his brain was writhing with awful pain, with knowledge of his
sure obliteration, his chilled and broken body stayed inert. Reposed as if inside the
womb, he felt the ache receding, and before night’s shadows passed into the dawn,
his blood had stanched.
Now as flesh turns into carrion lying undiscovered in the dust, his spirit… never
quashed. . .cries out for justice.
Hate Is Not A Crime
I have hated
still bear the scars
that caused the hate
and the scars of hating
those who caused the hate.
I know the darkness
of my hate, its futile
longing to be freed
from it’s sordid legacy.
I fear the demons
it holds at bay
in a molten ball
of raging regret.
I have honed the edges
of my hate, cast the sword
heavenward into
an empty sky
Yet the forge still
smolders, new blades glow
reddened-hot
in the flush of feeling’s
lingering lunacy.
My hate gave power
to too small hands,
purpose to an
uncomprehending mind,
fever to a dying spirit.
The healing power of hate -
the purified
cauterization of
un-healing wounds.
For hate was all I had
and hate is not a crime.
5/19/2017
submitted to – Catharsis – Poetry Contest
Her tread even lighter than a field mouse,
Her gown more bluer than a cloudless sky;
She stiffens like the cat about to pounce:-
Right now...another wretched soul to die.
Hand as Michelangelo's hand of God;
Outstretched arm pausing momentarily;
And in that dreadful instant some poor sod
Staring back: eyes imploring, "no...not me".
The awful deed, that last despairing look --
An elderly generation betrayed!
Constant self-rebuking and endless tears;
For in her well thumbed, cherished book
There is no solace found upon a page...
Just a guilt borne unto her final years.
The rhyme I write
is of crime that
kills Life in prime,
in a strife his
throat slit by knife
had fear writ large
on him and it
made me swim in
sweat in dream grim.
9-Dec-2020
Bauk Than - Than Bauk Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: charles messina
In the the format requested in the contest
O. a. O. O
O. O. a. O
O. b. O. a
O. O. b. O
O. c. O. b
O. O. c. O
O. d. O. c
The Autumn sun shone with golden magic
The warmth of the embrace was seen from afar
As I stood along the fence in the valley below
Inside the house are tales akin to tragic
A son had volunteered, never returned from war
The brother, when burgled, lost a limb & elbow
The mother took a job in the town's law practice
Came home too tired, to enjoy bird or flower
Tend her husband, then disabled son in back bungalow
This is the story of every house, of Al & Beatrice
Clark & Diane, Everett & Flo, by year, month, hour!
The house glowing under God's sun, hides tales of woe
If is committed a heinous crime
God will catch at the right time
The whole World will come to know
His real anger God will surely show
He will give a perfect check
For that unholy, dirty trick
Punishment He will heap
Adversity one must reap
Frauds deserve great penalty
As the intention is faulty
Never will God offer to forgive
They can never peacefully live
Always there will be a threat
Happiness they can never get
They will be strongly beaten
Until their bodies go rotten
In their chest, God will kick
Due to fear, they will go sick
God will strangulate their throat
Like humans cutting a goat
God will accept not any apology
And will not fall prey for eulogy
Into the woods the three did wander
Graceful teenage girls carefree
I had great cause to ponder
Surely someone held the key
When they were never seen again
Suspecting things grimly gone awry
What evils lurks what evil men
Might dare beneath God’s watchful eye
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Passion Should Not Be A Crime
by Rick Rucker
Why do some think it wrong,
To hold a vision your whole life long?
Like Doctor Martin Luther King,
His Devotion changed Everything!
And Gandhi was another one,
It took a while, but he got it done!
If there is a Cause for which you'd burn,
Pick up the battle flag, and take your turn!
If you don't like what we're doing to Earth,
How much of your effort is it worth?
You may pay an awful price,
But you'll be repaid twice.
First, you will have satisfaction,
The other is some likely action.
The soldiers need a leader stout,
To tell them what it's all about.
If you can cut through the Din,
Then your Cause can get a Win!
Your opponents will not last,
If, to your Vision, you hold fast!
Tim was the new judge in Deadwood Flat
Not really qualified, just a rancher at that
He first case was of the outlaw, Horace Slade
Caught red handed in a cattle raid
The jury took ten minutes to recommend the noose
Better than letting this rattlesnake loose.
Tim smoothed out his robe, asked Slade to speak
Slade perked up, though his future was bleak
"It was only my brain, my brain it was me.
Badly constructed, that's how I plea
My thoughts, my feelings, my crooked way
All preprogrammed in my DNA!
"You see Dad was a member of the cardshop mob
Mom always drunk, and moreover a slob
My twin set a cat on fire at the age of three
So, who could predict much hope for me?
Tim panicked, searched his dictionary
Couldn't find DNA, wished he was on the prairie
He had never heard that excuse before
But said to Slade, "proceed, tell us more"
Slade felt hope, and got on a roll
He said "ain't no such thing as a soul'
"I know the computer hasn't been invented yet
"But we're programmed, coded, our path in life set!
"I shot a man to watch him die
Then partied at the bar for an alibi
Not my fault, an MRI would have shown
My limbic system, quiet as a stone.
The jury murmured, Tim gave a sigh
What was a computer, or an MRI?
Slade's nonsense was going too far
Slade could have used a lesson in better P.R.
Tim said, "I hope what you say is not true
I like soul and spirit, the afterlife too.
But either way, some feelings I can't transcend
My brain wants your pointless existence to end!
They planned to hang Slade on the Alder tree
Justice would be served, jury did agree
Then Slade tried a ploy, to explain his crime
He yelled "I'm a traveler through time!"
"I come from the year 2024
DNA, MRI, computers and more
Got stuck in a time warp, had to survive
You'd do the same to stay alive"
They had to let Slade go, agreed he's insane
Tim didn't like to do it, it went against the grain
But Deadwood Flats couldn't hang a guy
Who believed in computers, DNA, and MRI!
Andrew ordered a stripogram, Kay
To visit him on his birthday
When he opened the door
Sixteen copper’s he saw
They cuffed him, then took him away
After questioning for many hours
In the police car oh how he cowers
There’s one thing I’ll bet
He’s been covered in sweat
His birthday bash pizza night sours!
The Epstein files are in the press
Now Andrew’s life is such a mess
As his recent arrest
Surely made Andrew stressed
He’s guilty, but he won’t confess
I’m hoping royal succession can
Be removed from this vile man
I’m “Throne out,” he will moan
“The loo’s my only throne”
All royal titles flushed down the pan!